Growing Closer
by KatyGrace
Summary: Annabeth is a girl with a troubled life. Sweet Percy finds her alone in the rain and takes her in. Experience the sadness Anna went through as she relives her past. It hurts. A lot. But Percy is here to help. No gods, but future Percabeth! Read&Review.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Hey all. The tables are turned in this story; instead of Annabeth nursing Percy back to health after his Minotaur fight, Percy takes Annabeth into his home because she's got a dickhead for a dad and bitch for a stepmom. (Excuse my coarse language, guys. There are reasons this is rated T and not K)**

**Percabeth is inevitable here. *Maniacal laugh* It'll [definitely] show up in the story, but they've got to 'grow closer' first. I know, my puns aren't punny. xD Kay, I'll stop, sorry.**

**There are no gods in this story. Other characters like Grover, Thalia, Luke, Silena, and Rachel will be included.**

**Review if you want more! I usually update faster then. :D**

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><p>I sat atop of the concrete steps of the apartment building with my face buried in my knees. The icy rain poured mercilessly on my bare shoulders, and I shivered violently. My blonde curls were strewn across my back in clumps, soaking wet. My teeth chattered from cold, and my head pounded from hunger, but I was silent. The only things I could hear were the rain pelting the ground and the footsteps of pedestrians around me. My chapped lips were curved into a permanent frown, and my trodden heart was as empty as my stomach. I was only twelve years old at the time, but there I was, on the streets in a dirty green camisole and torn black jeans.<p>

What was I doing there, sitting in the middle of New York City on a rainy winter day, totally alone? My father's house had good food and a warm bed, but my father was a horrible bastard who treated me like scum. When he met my mother, he was a young college student who shared her interests; and soon they fell in love. I came as a surprise, and apparently my mother was some very important lady and had no time to take care of a certain curly blond-haired daughter. My father became very bitter after this. In exchange for a short, maybe only yearlong courtship he received me, a child he didn't want to raise.

And so the abuse began. I was neglected since… forever. I'll say I am quite a clever know-it-all, which was lucky since I'd always had to look after myself. My friends over the years were merely sympathetic or had no one else to talk to, and truly, I grew up a loner. I had all the answers in class, but I never uttered them. I had to make sure to conceal all my emotions up my sleeve and not speak unless spoken to and never question what my supposed caretakers were demanding and, under no circumstances, show I possessed even a shred of happiness; for this would go against everything my parents lived for. If I took the tiniest step out of line I would get slapped or beaten, by either my father or his wife: a dark-haired woman called Christine who he married when I was four years old. Though her voice with my father was sickly sweet and sugarcoated, she shrieked at me and made me do impossible tasks and chores. She later brought me two horrid stepbrothers who took joy in annoying me to my breaking point. Even when they were ripping my homework to white confetti I wasn't allowed to tell them off.

I got fed up. Wouldn't anybody? Often I rocked back in forth in my room beside my meager possessions, clawing at my face; wishing and hoping and dreaming for a better life. But never, ever did I sob. When a member of my despicable family opened my door for whatever reason my eyes were never wet. I was able to will myself to do that much. I would never let them see me cry. They could not be given the satisfaction that they had broken my spirit. Cracked maybe it was, but still intact.

Let's get back to why I was slouched pathetically in front of a random apartment complex in Manhattan. Well, the recent events in my house were the cause. Using money I collected doing odd jobs like babysitting, leaf raking, and dog-walking I had bought myself an mp3 player. I loved music, something wondrous to escape to in the solitude of my room at nighttime, and when my parents were out of the house I would sneak to my father's computer to scroll through iTunes or YouTube to my heart's content. My mp3 player was the only indulgence I had ever gotten to experience. My stepmother's niece was visiting one day and insisted she wanted a gift other than some lame JCPenny shirt for her birthday. Christine hadn't bothered to spend much thought on snotty little Hera's present, so she handed her my treasured music player. Bitch of a parent she was.

That ticked me off, ohhhh yes it did. I was ready to burst before my father threatened to deprive me of dinner for a week if I said anything foul. I shut up and stormed into my bedroom, face burning hot with anger.

Not long afterwards, I was putting the finishing touches on my science fair project that I had poured my heart and soul into. I hoped to get some awards for my piece of art until my stepbrother Bobby decided to trash it for kicks, and I finally snapped. I almost strangled the dumbass before my dad came into his room and bellowed at me to get out of the house.

I grabbed all my worldly possessions and shoved them into my ragged school backpack and stole some money from my stepmother's purse. My family had refrained from kicking me out throughout the years because they knew their reputation would be at stake. Frederick and Christine Chase didn't want to be known as the couple that put some poor, innocent child out onto the streets. But my father had had enough of me. And I, of course, had had enough of the whole lot called my family to last a lifetime.

I don't regret leaving the house. Living or dying anywhere else was better compared to the harassment in the Chase household. I wasn't sure where I was going exactly, all I knew is that I wanted to get as far away from my 'family' as I could.

Thunder crackled above, bringing me back to my reality of skin brittle from cold and damp from rain, topped off with eyes heavy with fatigue. My backpack slid off my shoulders as I shifted positions, hoping to avoid getting any soggier, but it didn't do any good. The neighborhood I was in now had no trees for miles, and shelter was nonexistent. I was too exhausted to trek on and search for some dry land…

I began to drift off to a shallow sleep before I heard a voice in front of me.

"Hello?"

I whipped out my Swiss Army knife and waved it lamely in front of me towards a pair of wet jeans before looking up to see a boy my age in a thin blue raincoat, extending an umbrella towards me. His hair was mussed up, jet-black, and speckled with raindrops.

"Take it."

Knife still in my steadfast grip, I croaked, "What?"

"Take it. Take the umbrella."

I shook my head vigorously, burying my head in my knees again. The boy offered his hand, and when I didn't take it he hauled me up himself.

Clutching my shoulders, the boy lifted me and made me stand up. I mustered up enough strength to peel his fingers off of me. I don't appreciate touch from other humans.

Faces level, I stared directly into his eyes; which were a kind, sparkling sea green surrounded by his overlong bangs. Voice cracked from lack of use, I asked, "What do you want?"

He didn't say anything with his lips, but his eyes said all, searching my own grey ones with so much sadness. _What happened to you?_

My dead look replied with, _Horrible things_.

Under normal circumstances I would be stabbing a stranger with my knife, but I was too tired and weak to fight the boy, and he didn't seem like he wanted to hurt me. On the contrary was he trying to…?

"I'll take you home with me," the boy said, still looking into my eyes with such intensity I wanted to look away. "I'll help you."

"You don't even know who I am," I breathed, turning away. I sat on top of the steps again and muttered to myself, "Though the people who do know me want to do the opposite of help."

Hood shadowing his face, the boy looked at me with a tremulous expression. Silently he sat beside me, opening his umbrella over my head as he began to dry off my wet arms with his own jacket, which he had just taken off. I twitched at his touch, but forced myself to stay still.

This gesture of kindness warmed my chest so much that a small smile spread across my face. A genuine, heartfelt smile that hadn't made its appearance in months. He shyly smiled back and I almost felt tears well up into my eyes. Vaguely sensing he was asking what my name was, I blinked my tears back, remembering the only rule I bothered to follow:

_You'll never catch me cry._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Hi guys! I hope you like this second installment. It is rather sad, like Chapter One, but things will look up soon. :) There will be happy chapters, sad chapters, and mixtures of both in this story. I'm trying to make it realistic, but bear with me. I've planned out up to like 30 chappies already! :D**

**Also, I have a question: should I name my chapters?  
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**Review and tell me what you think. :]**

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><p>The angry black clouds hovering above New York City seemed to want to pelt me with frigid water until I died of hypothermia. The chilly air of early December didn't help me either; it made my fragile body tremble even more as I sat with a hunched back and wobbly knees beside a black-haired boy. Water dripped off of me when I moved; I was soaked to the skin. I felt stiff and frozen inside and out, and the warmth that had flooded my face when I hugged the kindly stranger left me when I pulled away from him. He asked me for my name again, but I barely caught his words, for I was staring at him bleakly, wondering why he would spare his valuable time to help a lonely, pathetic girl like me.<p>

"My name is Annabeth. Annabeth… Chase."

"Right. Well, I'm Percy. Born Perseus Jackson."

_The ancient Greek hero_, I thought curiously. _Maybe he will become a hero, too. He may be one already._

Large droplets of water rolled off the faded umbrella clasped in his fingers as he pushed my arms into the sleeves of his own raincoat. Unaccustomed to this level of generosity, I asked sarcastically, "Are you only being nice to me so you can later sell me to someone as fishing bait?"

He gave me a funny look while tugging the hood over my ears before he remembered his umbrella was patterned with fish and sea creatures. "I'm not in that business, and you know humans aren't used as bait. My dad manned a fishing vessel, though. This was his."

"Was?" I squeaked, barely managing to stand up without his hands steadying me. I could tell he was evading my true question, which was _Why are you helping me?_

Wringing out his shirt with his umbrella-free hand and supporting me on his shoulder, Percy replied, "My dad was a rich guy who fell in love with my mother a long, long time ago. Their time together made me, but my father left my mom before I was born. We haven't seen the scumbag since, and he's never reached out to us or tried contacting. My poor mother never received a lousy child support check." He had turned awfully bitter, and I knew exactly how he felt. At that moment, for some mysterious reason, I decided to trust him. Maybe it was because our backgrounds were so similarly depressing, maybe because of the fact that I had never imagined anyone sacrificing their own clothes to keep _me, _of all people_,_ warm and dry…

We began to stagger down the steps; me in my sorry state, lightheaded, tank and jeans soggy, flesh covered with bumps from cold, but incredibly grateful to my savior; and considerate Percy with his waterlogged sleeves, damp hair, shaking body from the biting cold eating at his exposed skin, and his sea green eyes like glassy orbs searching the barren grey sky.

Following Percy's direction, we walked down the sidewalks of Manhattan amidst throngs of people, both of us sodden and tired. I suspected that his life wasn't great either, his face seemed to be etched with lines of sadness, and no rich and happy person ever bothered to bring home a stray; it's just us downcast people who try lending each other a hand.

We hastily swept through a car-congested street; I dodged a convertible as he struggled to keep his umbrella aloft as gales swirled around us vehemently. "I hope your father and my mother haven't hooked up," I said dryly when we made it across. "My mother left my father right after I was born. She was too busy to be bothered with a baby, like your dad, and my father wanted me less than my mom did, but he had no choice but to take me. At least you have your mom."

Percy frowned as we continued down the sidewalk, passing a number of shabby cafes. His arm remained in my iron grip before he told me, "You make yourself sound like… like a garbage bag full of trash someone is forced to throw into a bin outside. Maybe some chewed-up dog toy unfit to be played with and not even worth throwing away… just left lying in the grass forgotten. Or like an ugly sweater left untouched in a drawer, unwanted."

These comparisons made me want to curl up in a dark corner and never speak to anyone ever again, and I relinquished my hold on his arm. Feeling withered, I muttered, "Thanks…"

"No! No, no… I didn't mean you were, I was just thinking… don't be so hard on yourself," Percy stammered, but I looked away from him. "I'm sorry."

I touched his hand softly. "It's all right," I said, voice barely audible. "You've shown me great kindness by taking me with you. Belittle me, my life, my appearance; I'm used to it."

But he sensed the hurt in my voice and grabbed hold of my hand, hoping it would suffice as an apology.

It did.

The little shops ended just before we approached a tall building made of blood red bricks, surrounded by wiry-branched trees, and Percy tugged my arm as he ran to the front doors. He pushed the left one and stepped in, and I tailed behind him. A seemingly comfortable and dimly lit lobby with cushy armchairs and velvety rugs atop a gleaming tile floor met me when I entered, but what I loved most was the soothing warmth. A blanket of alleviating heat washed over me by the time I was a couple of feet in, and it felt like the sun had sprouted hands and had caressed my cheek. The feeling was wonderful and placating, and Percy seemed happier too.

I followed him to the elevator, where he punched in a number as a lanky, uniformed young man came in. He asked Percy jubilantly, "Got a girlfriend, did you, Perce?"

The elevator began to move as Percy gave him a look and said, "Oh, go away, Reggie, you stupid bellhop."

Reggie tipped his hat and grinned at him. "Certainly, I'd hate to embarrass you in front of a lady." Winking at me, he left as the steel doors opened for the second floor.

"Don't mind him," Percy muttered as the elevator closed and began to rise again. "He's annoying, but he means well."

I nodded. "I'm sure he was trying to detract the attention from my hobo-like appearance."

"But you're not – " he stopped midsentence when he got a glimpse of my face and wordlessly motioned for me to come with him when the elevator opened on his floor. I followed him out as a pair of high school kids went in. I ignored their imploring stares and found myself in front of a white apartment door, Percy on my right, his key fiddling around in the doorknob.

The door edged open after he unlocked it, and I saw his apartment for the first time. It was rather small, but it was very cozy and had some wooden and leather furniture, along with homey furnishings scattered throughout the vicinity. The walls were painted soft colors.

"Percy? Are you home?" called a voice, obviously female, came from the kitchen. I stood in the doorway stupidly before I got the sense to go meet Percy's mother.

Percy closed the umbrella and tossed it onto the floor, leaving for the kitchen. As we entered, a delicious aroma wafted around us, and I felt my mouth water. Percy's mom stood above a stove, stirring a large pot in a burgundy dress and smudged apron, her brown hair tied and tossed across her right shoulder.

Percy threw his arms around her waist, making her turn to him and smile benignly. She hugged her son back with equal tenderness; and I felt out of place, like I was intruding someone's home unlawfully. Ms. Jackson had lines around her kind face, likely due to stress over many years, and her eyes constantly changed colors like a kaleidoscope. Those eyes then spotted me leaning against the countertop, and she let go of Percy abruptly.

"Percy, honey, why are you soaking wet?" she asked, frowning, as steam began to billow out of her pot. She then looked at me, worried. "And who is this little sweetheart?"

Ms. Jackson took my face into her hands and examined my face. "Are you all right? Where is your family, dear?"

Choking on my words, I replied, "I don't have one. They kicked me out."

Percy, not remotely surprised at this new information, said, "Mom, I found Annabeth on the front steps of the blue complex on 36th street. She must have been there for hours, and I gave her my raincoat to keep her from getting any more wet."

Feeling embarrassed, I slipped off his blue rain jacket and handed it to Ms. Jackson. "I'm so sorry I let him… I shouldn't have been so selfish…"

Percy's mother looked at me, her kaleidoscope eyes troubled. She disregarded my words and told me, "You poor thing. Would you like some dinner?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but she put her finger to my lips. "Yes, you would. We're having chicken today, with crisp string beans in a secret sauce. There's also a lovely vegetable stew." Smiling, she shifted and said, "Percy, show Annabeth the bathroom so she can dry herself off, the girl is dripping wet." Combing my tangled, matted blond curls with her fingers, Ms. Jackson added, "The hairbrush is under the sink, Annabeth, dear."

Percy led me to the bathroom and handed me a pair of his own pajamas, which had pictures of blue whales stitched in as a design. "There's a towel inside," he told me, and I nodded slightly. He hesitated for a moment, and I thought he wanted to say something else to me, but he turned to walk away.

I threw my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "I don't want to be a burden, so I hope I'll find some hellhole to settle in soon. But thank you. For helping me."

Percy clumsily pat my hand and murmured back, "You need the help. And stay."

And with that he disappeared into his room, leaving me alone with his pajamas slung over my shoulder.

I missed him already.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Dear all readers: **

**I am soooo sorry I haven't updated this. I have such ha-uge plans for this story, but I got busy and went on hiatus, and then I got sucked up into Maximum Ride (an amazing series, btw) and am currently more focused on my new MR fanfiction than others. I'm not leaving this story unfinished, I'll tell you that. It's just I'm in a Max Ride phase at the moment, which also explains my change of writing style. Sorry about that, by the way. **

**This chapter ends in a cliffhanger. Guess what happens next correctly and I'll... give you a cookie? **

**Nah. I'll just update a bit faster to let you know if you were right.**

**Enjoy, guys. :)**

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><p>I rolled over in my bed, my blond curls clouding my face. I wasn't asleep, I wasn't awake. I was some mixture in between: my eyes were half-open, but when I tried to speak I grumbled.<p>

The translucent curtains on the window made sure there was enough light in the room to assure you it was, in fact, daytime, but not enough to wake you up by shooting hot rays of sunshine onto your face as you slept.

With some effort, I picked myself off the bed and dragged myself out of the Jacksons' guest room, my place of inhabitance the past two blissful days. I hadn't had any nightmares tonight, and thus the sleep was heavenly. But I didn't want to turn into a lazy butt; if I was going to leech off of poor Percy and his mom, I needed to at least be a pleasant houseguest who did some chores and didn't lie in bed all day. When thoughts of where I would be next (I can't suck the blood out of Ms. Jackson forever) come into my head I push them away and distract myself.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard hushed voices. I paused, not going to the bathroom door, heading towards the conversation instead.

Percy and Ms. Jackson were leaning over the kitchen counter, both with furrowed eyebrows. I hid in the archway and listened.

"Mom," Percy began, seeming to struggle to keep his voice even, "why haven't you told me about this?"

Ms. Jackson sighed, rubbing her tired kaleidoscope eyes with her hands. "I didn't want to worry you, Percy. And you shouldn't, it's not your business."

"Mom," Percy said again, his voice drained. He picked up a sheet of paper, covered in dollar signs, numbers, and tiny, caps-lock lettering. A bill. "This is important. We're falling behind on paying dues, and you won't tell me? I have to find out myself?"

His mother looked at him sadly. "The winter has been rough. Without the extra heating, we'd both have been sick. And indulging a bit on Thanksgiving isn't sinful. It's just that we… we need more money."

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but Ms. Jackson shushed him. "I've been contemplating taking up a second job with longer hours, I've been searching, Percy. I don't want you to go selling your clothes or your computer or our furniture. We will be all right; if food's on the table, Percy, I don't want you concerned."

Percy ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. "Mom, I don't want you to be working your butt off twenty-four hours a day. I can barely stand not seeing you weekdays, but if you're gone weekends too, I'll never see your face at all!"

"Of course you'll see me, Percy," Ms. Jackson assured, taking the bills from him. But her gaze didn't meet his. "I'll spare all my free time to you. But I don't want you going hungry. You know you're my number one priority." She reached out to pat his cheek, but Percy pulled away.

"But what about me, Mom? I'm thirteen now, and I think I can juggle a couple of odd jobs to help us get by. I've seen our apartment payments, Mom," his face seemed strained as he continued, "I don't want us to get kicked out of _our own house_. There's grimy Dean down the street, he told me I still have a chance to be dog-walker. If I take a rabies shot and bring some band-aids when I'm stuck with a Rottweiler, I think I'll live to take a meager check."

My lips curved into a sad smile as he said this, but Ms. Jackson's face turned white.

"Percy, it's too risky. You said so yourself. You could get lost if those damned dogs drag you to the corner of Manhattan. Or you could get bitten," his mom said, half-stern, half-worried sick.

"I'll be fine," Percy replied, and his voice had edge of anger to it. "I walk around NYC every day. And there's also the near-minimum-wage-but-not-quite job at the convenience store on Sixty-third Street. Only a kid like me will take it anyway. It's only a block away, and I'll just sweep the floors and do inventory. Mom, why _not_?"

"There could be a burglary," Ms. Jackson said stiffly, and Percy gave her a hard look.

"Mom, I want to help. And I'm not a little kid anymore."

I studied Percy as he said that, taking in his appearance. He was around five foot four; not even approaching his mother's height, and while his arms had traces of muscle, he was still kind of scrawny. His black hair was in his eyes, and those glassy green orbs look much older than he is. It's similar to how my own worn gray eyes look near forty years old, as opposed to my actual twelve.

Ms. Jackson then sighed, staring at Percy with an indefinable expression.

"You're still a child, Percy. And you know I only want what is best for you."

Percy, defiant, stood up straighter. "No, Mom. I love you and everything but this time I'm not going to listen. I can help."

"Percy – "

I'd had enough. I emerged from my hiding place and greeted them with a very pained look on my face.

"Percy. Ms. Jackson. I'm not staying here if you have so many problems already. I'm not going eat your food and waste your money and be a burden. I know I've bothered you enough already."

After the initial shock of discovering I was eavesdropping, they both gave me apologetic looks.

"Annabeth, sweetie, it'll all be all right, you can stay – "

"No," I interrupted Ms. Jackson, taking a step back, my head pounding from whatever freaking emotion I was feeling. "I can't do this to you. I'm leaving."

Not wanting to see their faces, I whirled around and sprinted towards the guest room the next second, my bare toes snagging the carpet. I could hear Percy running after me, calling my name.

"Annabeth, wait!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Hey. Story continues! Some fighting between Percy and Annabeth. Please don't hate me. Ha-ha.**

**I know the quality of my writing's a bit down, but I just really want to chug out the plot. So I apologize for that. If you need prose, though, you shouldn't be on FF in the first place. Go check out Shakespeare or something.**

**Review to tell me what you think~**

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><p><em>Am I being noble for wanting to leave? Or stupid? Ugh.<em>

I slammed the door behind me, wildly searching for all my belongings. Head pounding, I shoved my clothes into my backpack, dreading the confrontation. I knew Percy was going to try and stop me from leaving. But that wasn't going to happen.

"Annabeth!" The door swung open, and a weary teenage boy hustled in.

I didn't turn around.

"Annabeth." Percy forced me to look at him, gripping my shoulder and angling me his way. I shot him a glare, courtesy of my acidic gray eyes, and continued to zip up my pack.

"Annabeth, you're not going."

"Is that a threat?" I spat, standing to my full height. I was about an inch taller than he was. Score one for Annabeth.

"No," he said, backing away to block the doorway. "Annabeth, please don't go."

"Percy," I said slowly, "I'm selfish. Everyone is. But I'm not selfish enough to suck the blood out of a family struggling as it is."

"You're not sucking our blood!" Percy protested. "Gods, Annabeth. You've only helped since you've been here. And I think another pair of hands, specifically yours, could be great for me and Mom."

I shook my head. "Percy, no. I think I'll just crawl back to my old house. If they don't take me back I'll just threaten to tell the authorities they kicked me out in the first place. Or I'll go creep into an orphanage or foster home."

"You'll just be abused again," he said, his voice pleading. "Stay."

"I'll be fine. I_ can_ take care of myself," I replied, my tone scathing. One of many reasons I don't have any friends.

"Oh yeah? Like you were taking care of yourself back on that rainy day? Annabeth, make it go through your bullhead that you need help!" Percy yelled, shocking us both.

Hot, angry tears were making their way into my eyes, and I blinked them back. _Don't cry. You never cry._ "Don't call me a_ bullhead_. And why do you care so much about me anyway?"

Without warning, Percy tightly wound his arms around me into a hug, and I let out a squeak. His voice was hoarse: "I… don't know. I like you, I guess. Even though I know you don't like me that much. You're not judgmental, you're quiet, reserved… there's something about you that's special."

_Is this what you call love at first sight? Ha-ha_. Something, an emotion, to be specific, fluttered inside of my chest, one I'd never felt before. I then pulled away from Percy, wearing a genuinely happy smile I didn't know I could. Blushing, I muttered something around the lines of, "…thank you."

"So… you'll stay?" Percy asked. His face seemed a little pink from his confession.

Depressed, I replied, "I want to. You know I do. Percy, this has been my respite. I'm so glad you took me… under your wing, so to speak. But as bitchy as I can be, I'm not going to bother you any longer."

Percy frowned, probably because he had just poured his heart out to someone to prevent her from leaving him only to have her leave anyways. My body felt like an empty shell as I prepared to say the final 'goodbye' until Percy perked up like a puppy dog.

"Annabeth! That's it! Foster home!"

"What?"

Grinning, he said, "Mom and I can be your foster family! That way you can stay without all your stupid guilty feelings."

I shoved him, but did it playfully. A sudden hope had filled me. "You really think so?"

"I know so. Come on, let's go tell Mom."

I smiled as a weight seemed to be lifted off of my shoulders. Earlier, I had visualized myself scrounging for moldy food, pawing through a dumpster, maybe. A hot, steaming dinner with my favorite two people around an actual dining table had much more appeal. _Especially_ with a cleared conscience. "You go. I need some time to think things through."

I saw the look on Percy's face and blurted out, "No! I'm not sneaking out. Not until I know this foster home business is totally impossible."

He left, sliding the door closed, leaving me hunched on the guest bed, debating on whether or not to unpack my stuff. On a sudden impulse, I did: taking out my balled up clothes and folding them into a neat pile beside the bureau.

I sprawled out on the comforter as stupid, gleeful daydreams began to invade my head: ones of me and Percy eating lunch together and riding the bus to school together and chasing each other in Central Park and all sorts of that crap. The darker side of my brain (the one that's more in tune with reality, unfortunately) depicted me getting screamed at by my dad and Christine and getting beaten by workers at a dilapidated orphanage. Sighing, I buried my face in my pillow.

Vaguely, I knew Percy was talking to his mother down in the dining room, but their voices weren't raised or pitchy or hushed, giving me good vibes. Would I really be able to live here?

Percy answered my prayers, as he always was lately, opening the door with a shy smile. "Mom and I talked it over. She says you can be registered for foster care. We'll have to lie a little, but in the end, you can live here with us."

My heart did a leap. _I can stay? _I was too shell-shocked to say anything, though. So he went on.

"They'll send money here to 'pay for you' or something. Will that clear your conscience, Wise Girl?"

Wise Girl. That was a new one. "Of course." I hugged him, and the sheer awkwardness of our last hug seemed to disappear, warmth left in its place. On an unrelated but pleasant note, Percy smelled like… the ocean.

"Mom's making pancakes," Percy informed me after breaking off the hug, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Blueberry ones."

"Yum."

I followed him out, my head whirring. My mind was such a flurry of thought I wouldn't be able to tell you any definite thing if I tried. I could, however, make out the pleasant lack of nightmarish thoughts. Always good.

That morning the three of us laughed and talked over pancakes, made from scratch, apparently. The peculiar blue color took some getting used to (food coloring), but they were still delicious. I was happier than I'd ever been. People that cared about me? People I cared about? Check, and check. I'll have to get used to this.

There are still the Jacksons' financial issues to worry about, but I think that together we can get through it. Hey, my life has been full of, if not _made_ out of, rough patches. This won't be any different.

Right now it's midnight. The moon set across the inky blue sky is full and round, and there are no visible stars as usual; just the occasional helicopter. I'm tucked under the covers in the guest bedroom (I can't wait to call it mine) while reliving the events of the past few days. At several scenes I've cringed, smiled, or even had near-watery eyes. I wonder if my life will ever turn normal.

Also, Percy was (slightly) wrong about me before. Honestly, I happen to be_ very_ judgmental. The thing is that I don't talk much, so no one knows what I think of them anyway. But since you're here, my opinion Percy is this: he's kind. So unbelievably, so impractically kind. He annoys me, but I really do like him, as opposed to what he thinks.

And I've benefited from Percy's kindness. Now I have a home. A friend. A mom figure.

But now I know the levels of his severe niceness. I'm telling you, the boy is too nice for his own good. Everyone has their strengths, right? His is helping others.

But I think Percy's greatest strength may just be his greatest weakness too. His kindness may just be the demise of him.

I roll to one side now, trying to shut out the disturbing thought and fall asleep.

But I tell you, it's hard.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**

**Hi guys. Update!**

**I apologize for the lack of drama here, but more'll come soon. Just introducing some new stuff.**

**Winter break is over. She's been registered into foster care (yay, living with Percy!) and enrolled in school.**

**Enjoy, and review~**

* * *

><p>"We're here."<p>

I yawned in reply. I should've gone to bed earlier.

It was early morning, and the sky was still dark as night, the moon a white crescent high above our heads. Our gaits slowed to complete stop as we approached the street corner. There was a small group of kids around our age already waiting, and none of them spared me a second glance. A guy with close-cropped gray-brown hair leaned against the stop sign, book bag slung over his shoulder, while a lanky, orange-haired guy paced in circles, a blue binder at his chest. A girl taller than me stood in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts, her yellow hair messily tied, fiddling with her cell phone. She had much more meat on her bones than I did, but wasn't fat. I'm athletic, but I'm also on the skinny side.

A cold gust from the north blew at my face, and I tucked my hands into my coat pockets. Percy was beside me, adjusting the straps of his backpack. I sighed as another cool breeze threatened to make me shiver. Percy gave me a look. _Something up? _

_No, _I mouthed back, _just missing Cali. I'm still not used to the cold._

He agreed with a terse nod. You see, I'm from California. I had to move to NYC temporarily because my kindly father's job forced him to stay here for, say, three months. It's been a couple of weeks so far, but I know now I won't be returning to the sunshine and sandy beaches of LA. Oh well. You and I both know I prefer living with the Jacksons to living with the Chases. Sincerity intended.

The five of us, strangers and friends included, didn't speak a word as we waited, the only noises audible were the ones of skidding cars likely rushing their passengers to work. We stood around for what felt like hours (an actual ten minutes), and I decided to sit down on the concrete and lay my head in my lap. Naptime!

I had only shut my eyes for a few moments before my ears registered a weird wheezing and beeping noise. I picked myself off the ground to see a blinking yellow school bus making its way toward us. That sharp mind of mine was clouded from grogginess, but soon I realized the noises were from the diesel engine and… Morse code? Rather unconventional way of communication nowadays, but whatever.

The bus's doors folded open, and everyone stirred themselves into moving. I stepped through the doorway with Percy directly behind me. "Where do you sit?" I whispered to him, standing beside the bus driver. I ignored the few eyes that were watching me and nudged Percy again.

"Third row to your right," he whispered back, and I took my seat beside the window, Percy sliding in after me.

I leaned my head against the window, relishing the bus heaters warming my frozen self. Just then another thought occurred to me. "Oh no. Percy, what about the person you usually sit by on the bus? Where'll they sit now?"

He shook his head as he placed his backpack at his feet. "I sit alone."

"_Sat_ alone," I corrected, poking his arm, and Percy actually cracked a smile. The bus revved and began to move again as the last kid took their place.

I then disconnected myself from everyone, staring out the window in silence. My brain vaguely registered the warmth of Percy's arm wedged against mine.

* * *

><p>"Hello," came a nasally voice that made my skin crawl, and I turned. "You're the new student? Annabeth, is it?"<p>

"Yes. This is Art A, right? First period Art A?"

The teacher nodded slightly, her eyes bored. "I'm Ms. Dollar. There's an empty seat beside… Keyvan. He's back there, near the paints. Go take your seat."

I craned my neck to take a peek at the art room. The large walls were a stained white, but covered with both crude and neat drawings and paintings stapled to bulletin boards. The back wall was lined with wooden cabinets holding supplies, and bowls of reddish brown clay sat by the sinks. The students seemed to be mostly sixth graders, all being annoying and blabbing to each other pointlessly, filling the room with their incessant chatter. _Great._

I made my way over to the boy Ms. Dollar had motioned to. He had dark, bushy eyebrows that were scrunched into a scowl. His arms were crossed, and nobody seemed to be talking to him. At least he was quiet.

I placed my art bag on the table and took a chair next to him, wishing I could sleep.

* * *

><p>Ms. Wooldridge was at the center of the classroom, explaining prepositional phrases in monotone. Along with the majority of his second period homeroom, Percy didn't feel like listening. Instead he opened his binder and leafed through old homework assignments as his mind kept wandering to Annabeth.<p>

Annabeth was in the gifted and talented program back in California, and the school counselor offered her GT classes here at M.S. 131 too. She'd felt a little guilty accepting, what with her leaving Percy all alone in his Regular and Pre-AP classes (both under GT), but Percy had assured her he didn't mind. Truth be told: Percy isn't stupid. Shocker, right? Nah, he just doesn't pay attention in class and fidgets, both due to his unfortunate ADHD, and he also is – brace yourself – _dyslexic_. Unlucky combinations. Even though Percy is perfectly capable (on a side note, he doesn't realize this), he's stuck in here with Ms. Wooldridge in Regular Language Arts because of the way the letters float off the page when he tries reading them. Regular Math presents itself with the same reason – only with numbers. Percy is Pre-AP all else.

Coincidentally, Annabeth herself is also dyslexic. She loves reading so much he hadn't even known until she struggled to read a cursive neon sign on a malt shop as much as he did. The counselor proposed a special Ed class Percy had been forced into back in sixth grade, but she denied, her pride at stake.

Ms. Wooldridge shifted to independent and dependent clauses as the girl behind Percy – Claire or Blaire or something – stifled a yawn. Ha-ha.

Percy took a swig from his water bottle, suddenly thirsty. His first period had been Athletics, which he despised, and they did sit-ups and other crap in the middle of the hallway again. The tank top clad basketball girls had run by to see Percy doing squats, his face sweaty and legs wobbly as he fell on his butt. The girls had laughed at him and went on to goggle at a more muscular seventh grader flexing his arms. Sigh.

Percy wondered if Annabeth's class was turning out any better than his. If she had any luck at all, the answer would be yes.

"Percy? I _clearly_ remember asking you if the word in question thirteen was an _adverb_ or an _adjective_." Ms. Wooldridge appeared before him, her pointed face looking irritated. The rest of the class stared, some snickering.

Uh oh.

* * *

><p>Third period. I threaded my way through the hallway, binder at my side, to make my way to GT science. The door hung open, a poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out smack in the middle, and students were scattered about the room, some chatting and crowded around one area while some sat on their stools alone. The tables were all lab tables, sleek black islands with sinks and beakers and hot plates. Experiments instead of textbooks for once. Cool.<p>

"Grover, the school will _never_ sell veggie burgers. They're too cheap, for one thing. And most middle schoolers are carnivores, AKA meat-lovers, remember?" said a girl, struggling not to laugh. She fixed her dark ponytail as the boy she was talking to frowned.

"_Most_, Priya, not all," he replied, his fingers raking his brown curls. "Our food sucks anyways. They should have more cheese enchilada days. I get tired of waiting for Thursday, it's so far into the week."

A petite Asian girl sitting across from him grinned. "If we had any more enchilada days, Grover, you'd be fat as a goat in a matter of months."

Grover's acne-covered face reddened to the color of his blackheads. Ha-ha.

"Um, I don't have a seat in this class yet. Mind if I sit here?" I asked them, setting my stuff down near an empty stool. I hoped these people wouldn't annoy me, but wasn't sure.

"No, go ahead," piped up the first girl. Her skin was a light brown color, her long black hair tied lazily, and she was a little chubby, but her smile was good-natured. "Hi, I'm Priya. Did your schedule change so you have science this period?"

"Actually, I just moved here. I'm Annabeth."

The Asian girl nodded, her choppy bangs clouding her eyes. She had iPod earphones tangled around her neck, and her dark hair was highlighted. "I moved here from California towards the end of sixth grade. I get how you must feel."

My eyebrows arched up. "I'm from California too. Where are you from?"

She seemed a bit surprised, but excited too. "Whoa! I'm from LA, how about you?"

"Me too. Small world," I mused, sitting onto my chair.

"It's a great place, right? I miss LA… soooo much! I mean, so many of my good friends were there, and I wish I could move back…" the Asian girl frowned, adjusting her glasses. Priya threw her arms around her.

"Don't be sad, Mindy. And don't leave us here in NY! Annabeth, do you miss California too?" I felt a bit disconcerted at the sudden change of subject.

"Oh, yeah. Well, there are some things my heart aches for, like the sunshine – "

"And New York doesn't have much sun in the winter," Grover bleated.

"Oh believe me, I know," I agreed, a little bitter. Stupid New York and its stupid two hours of daylight. "But there are some things I _know_ I won't miss that I left back in California."

"But LA is_ awesome_. So what things?" The Mindy girl had recovered, and was now texting on her charm-overloaded cell phone.

I felt nauseous as bad memories of the Chases and my old schools washed over me, and I muttered, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, tell us," she pressed, but Priya had seen me shudder and nudged Mindy to lay off.

"Ms. Riley is here, the lesson's about to begin," Grover said, gesturing towards an orange haired woman who sat behind the computer monitor.

The daily agenda was projected against the empty wall opposite to me, and I started to read.

_1: Finish Physics vocabulary flash cards  
><em>_2: Watch 'Newton's Laws' video  
><em>_3: Present the last of the element presentations  
><em>_4: Begin Alchemy research_

Guess I was wrong about the explosively fun experiments, but I had never minded schoolwork. Language Arts and history were my strong suits, though I liked science too. But my first period teacher, Ms. Dollar, had been agonizing: she had the most drawling voice ever, telling me to do the stupidest art projects I had never even imagined (We had to draw a stupid dog with a stupid marker on stupid index cards for twenty stupid times). And my Reading 180 teacher made us discuss a cheap teen girl novel as opposed to the American classics I was expecting. So the only thing I hoped was that this Ms. Riley was reasonable.

* * *

><p><em>Hmmm, which lunch line should I choose? Oh, wait. Yeah, that one, the middle one. The line's average-sized, but it's moving fastest.<em>

Soon I emerged from the greasy school kitchens with – you guessed it! – greasy school food. I felt nervous as I scanned for a place to sit. _Crap._ I didn't know anyone here except for Percy, and I had no idea where that boy was in this huge cafeteria. I supposed I would just have to look for an empty place.

I spotted a nearly vacant circular table; only one curly-haired kid occupied the many plastic chairs around it. I put my tray in front of me and started nibbling on a stale Smuckers peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I realized who the other kid was.

"Grover?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Hi Annabef," Grover greeted me, his mouth stuffed with food. "You're fro' my scien' cla', righ'?"

I nodded, recoiling as Grover spewed bits of yellow goo – cheese, I think – onto his lunch tray.

"Enchiladas?"

Grover gulped down his chow with some apple juice. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Call me a genius."

"What idiot's calling you a genius?" came a familiar voice from behind me. I slugged the grinning boy in the arm.

"Percy, you moron. Where have you_ been_?" I shot at him as he pulled up the chair beside me.

"My math teacher decided to interrogate me for no valid reason. It's why I'm late for lunch," Percy explained offhandedly, taking a bite out of his turkey sandwich.

I raised my eyebrows. "Spitball?"

"Maybe," was Percy's sheepish reply, and Grover laughed like a goat (which, if you're wondering, is somewhere around the lines of 'blahahahaha').

"Why'd you coin your teacher?" I asked Percy, sipping my water bottle.

"He gave a girl detention when the dude behind her was the one cheating on a test. Asshole."

I shook my head and tut, "Oh, Percy, you and your chivalry."

"Always," Grover agreed, chomping on another cheese enchilada. I gave him a quizzical look. Did he know Percy too?

Percy then shrugged, unable to hide his cocky smile. "What can I say? I'm a total knight in shining armor."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I don't think that's what you call it. I think the word is… courageous idiot?"

Percy threw a potato chip at me, and we both laughed. "Whatever it _is_ called, it's the reason you love me, right?"

I knew he didn't mean anything… you know… but still I blushed. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Can I have Pringle, Percy?" came an unexpected bleat from Grover. I was both startled at the sudden plead and relieved that he stopped the conversation from getting… awkward.

"Sure thing, G-man," Percy responded, sliding the carton over to him.

"So you guys know each other?" I said, marveling at the coincidence. There were over ninety kids in the seventh grade, and the two I happened to know also happened to know each other?

"Yep. Grover here's a good friend of mine," said Percy, punctuating his sentence with a fistbump from Grover. I rolled my eyes. _Boys_.

"Okay. Grover is in my third period class. How do you know him if he's in GT?"

Percy shook his head. "Grover's only in GT science. Obsessed with earth science. The dude's a hippie."

Grover pouted. "Loving nature is not the same as being a hippie!"

"Whatever, bro. You started sobbing last month when they cut down that huge oak tree in Central Park."

I stifled a laugh. "Seriously?"

"That tree was precious! It had been there for over fifty years!" Grover protested, gnawing nervously on his cheesy enchilada.

"Did you cry or not?"

Grover didn't answer me. He just shoved another enchilada into his mouth, dewy eyed.

Percy and I laughed at him.

"Relax, Grover. I'm all for the environment. I just don't hug trees," I told him, and Percy nodded.

"What she said."

"Thanks guys. You know, humans caused this all! Global Warming, pollution, littering, all this by humans! Humans should die, be incinerated, thrown off the face of the Earth for all the horrible things we've done…" Grover babbled angrily, trailing off, his acne-covered face a splotchy red.

"You never would've thought a vegetarian like him would be so bloodthirsty," Percy noted, his tone amused.

"Mmm-hmm," I mumbled back, my mouth stuffed with a blueberry muffin.

Well. I had two friends now. Not too bad.

* * *

><p>"Which one was it? The one where Harry kissed the Asian girl? Cho, was it?"<p>

"I think it was the movie with short pink toad lady."

"You're right for once in your life, Luke. Was it the Goblet of Fire?"

"This is the movie with the Luna chick, right?"

"Yeah."

"No, I think it's the Prisoner of Azkaban."

"No, dumbass, Prisoner of Azkaban's the one with the giant snake."

"Chamber of Secrets is the one with the snake, Thal."

"No, _dumbass_."

"Takes one to know one, Thal." I sensed a grin in the voice.

I sat (stiffly, I might add) with a very, very strained expression on my face as the boy and girl behind me argued – _stupidly_ – about Harry Potter. It was sixth period, PE, and the coaches had managed to mysteriously disappear, and thus an hour of doing nothing ensued. The gym bleachers were loaded with chatterbox middleschoolers, and I ended up in front of this pair of friends who are as familiar with Harry Potter as I am with stiletto heels.

And I'm a twelve-year-old, slightly tomboyish, curly blond seventh-grader who has not been near anything girly in… forever. Unless you count Christine's lipstick I smeared on my face as clown makeup that one time in kindergarten. Her reaction was worth the week without chocolate chip cookies. She was a little nicer back then. If she weren't I'd get the usual slap on my cheek or thump in the head.

But I digress. I managed to crane my neck to get a view of the pair sitting on the row above me. The girl was a strangely pretty likely-eight-grader with a freckly face and love for the color black, wearing a snarky expression on her that I sometimes see on myself. She was in a dark grey hoodie dotted with skulls and black jeans matched with purple converse. The girl's electric blue eyes narrowed, and she seemed to scold the boy as he held up his hands in surrender, trying and failing to hide a smile.

The boy… he was more of a teenager than a boy. He was… I sound shallow saying this, but he was _hot._ I mean, I'd seen some male actors flaunting on television, and they had _nothing _on him. He had this crooked smile and sandy blond hair and managed to make a simple orange t-shirt look amazing. Oh dear gods.

It's just some girliness I don't usually experience emerging from the dark depths of my body. I liked his looks. I didn't have any feelings for this guy, and also, I wasn't even a teenager yet. For a split second my mind turned to Percy – the heck? – but I quickly shoved that away.

"The fifth movie was the one where Voldemort came back. The _fifth_, Thalia."

"What! Stupid, it was the fourth one. I'd know. I'm a Voldy fan."

"You would be," the boy Luke chuckled as the girl Thalia elbowed him.

"Seriously, though. Which movie was the one where Sirius Black died?"

Oh gods. I'd had enough. I piped up, "The pink 'toad lady' Umbridge, Harry's kiss with Cho, and Sirius Black's death were all in the fifth movie, the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort came back in the fourth. And the serpent isn't from the _Prisoner of freaking Azkaban_, it's from the Chamber of Secrets."

Yeah. I sound pretty bitchy. Have you guys forgotten that I'm a total know-it-all?

At first the two stared at me with confused expressions, processing both the HP trivia and the fact that I'd been eavesdropping. Just then the bell rang, and the girl's look changed to irritation.

"Thanks, but we didn't ask _you_," she told me, her voice flippant. She then strode down the bleachers, the boy in tow. He dragged a huge black case at his side (a band instrument, probably) and gave me a salute as they reached the gym floor.

I'm ashamed to say I blushed a little. Stupid hormones.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Yo, yo. Hey guys. Sorry for lack of updates.**

**More Percy/Annabeth time next chap. Seriously? Seriously.**

**Hope you liked this one. I enjoyed the intro of Thalia and Luke. (On a side note, they're just friends here.)**

**And don't worry, guys, no Lukabeth in this fic. Major ick. **

**All right, R&R!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**

**Hi! Jeez, I really am sorry I haven't updated in forever. School started and I got all "hOMEWoRk! NoOoO!"**

**Next chapter is already written (I'll put it up soon too.)**

**If you need a recap, either go back to the previous 6 chapters, or just rack your brain for the info. ^^' **

**Sorry if you've forgotten everything by now. I'll just say a tiny recap if so: Annabeth's been kicked out. Now she's at Percy's. THE END.**

_IMPORTANT (READ BELOW):_

_New piece of news: I was going to edit this story to have Annabeth really paranoid about others touching her (for specific reasons) but I forgot. Oh well: just remember that Annabeth hates hugs, caresses, etc. Okay? Thanks. I realize Percy's hugged her a few times already, but just pretend they didn't happen. Or that Annabeth was screaming inside while he did._

**Okay, end author's note. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>A kind-faced woman with psychedelic eyes stood behind the kitchen sink, scrubbing a dirty dish with a soapy sponge. Her stony face lit up when she saw two preteens in winter coats hobble into the living room.<p>

"So," Ms. Jackson began as I threw my ragged backpack onto a chair, "how was your first day?"

I shrugged. "I guess it was okay. My art class was boring, my math teacher is a prick, but I like science and history."

"It's good to hear you like at least some of your classes, dear. Percy, did you help her get to her classrooms?"

"No, Mom, I let her rot in the hallway," Percy scoffed as he walked forward to give her a hug. "It was too much effort."

His mother rolled her eyes with him still in her arms and said, "How sweet of you. All right, you should get down to your homework, kids. Dinner at seven."

A thought struck me, and I piped up, "Wait. Ms. Jackson, how are you home before eight o'clock on a weekday?"

Her eyes seemed to twinkle as she smiled. "Didn't Percy tell you I come home early on Tuesdays?"

Rolling my eyes, I rummaged through my pack to reveal a folder stuffed with assignments. "He must have forgotten."

Percy shrugged and began heading towards his room, pen in hand. "Hey, it just made a pleasant surprise for you, right?"

I grinned. "Of course."

Percy has a unique way of looking at things.

I like that.

I let Ms. Jackson ruffle my hair before I left for my bedroom. (Yes, mine. Cue squeal of happiness.) I curled up on the carpet and began my language arts essay.

Three cheers for a normal, non-abusive life with the nicest two people in this entire universe. I want to hear you scream!

No? All right, how about a loud yell?

Uh, could you cheer in a conversational tone?

Fine. You can whisper. But you better say it _over_ and _over_.

Because I know I am.

* * *

><p>Yes, it was sixth period again. No, the PE coaches still weren't here. As per Grover, they were all at the high school for some tournament, and the (chubby) sub didn't want to be bothered with any kind of physical activity, deciding to let us do nothing (again) instead.<p>

I like running. My legs are long, tanned, and _fast. _I wanted to do cross-country this year, but the counselor was all, "No can do, only students who sign up for Athletics in the start of the year get to participate. You can go party with the chubs in Physical Education." Okay, the counselor didn't say that. Nor did I. I'm not that bigoted. The thought that PE had only fat kids never occurred to me. It was Percy's joke when I griped about not being allowed into Athletics. I scolded him for being mean, then realized how nice Percy actually was, and then began to laugh. He joined in.

Anyway, my butt was stationary and atop the green plastic gym bleachers once again. I was amidst crowds of sixth and seventh graders, doodling in my journal. The notebook was covered with rough pencil drawings of houses, skyscrapers, and coliseums; leaving little white space on the pages. The lines were messy but intricate: I'd recreated the Eiffel Tower in one, remembering each iron bar while even adding tiny tourists at the foot. I began sketching the Jackson's apartment building when I felt a hot breath on my neck.

I looked up, surprised, to see a random guy watching my notebook with wide eyes. He'd bothered to change into his PE uniform for some reason. His baggy red shirt read _JAKE MASON_.

"Yo! Will! Will Solace, get your butt over here!"

A tall kid with a bow and arrow emblazoned on his chest strode over. "What?"

"Take a look at this girl's drawings!"

He peeked at the pages and raised his eyebrows. "These are really good."

"Uhh… thanks," I mumbled back. A crowd had begun to form around me, and I soon found myself swarmed with people.

"Whoa! She's amazing!"

"You drew these?"

"Look, the Eiffel Tower!"

"I see pillars. Greek theme? Cool."

"Wow, you draw so well!"

I felt numb. "Thanks. Uh, I don't really draw all that great though. "

Through the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar pair of electric blue eyes watching my admirers and me from a distance. When I turned towards her, though, she looked away and became very interested in her own notebook. Mentally I smirked.

"You do draw very well!" gushed a pretty newcomer with dark tresses, pointing her glossy pink fingernail at the large bell tower I'd drawn. "These are _gorgeous_!"

I had a feeling this girl said 'gorgeous' a lot, so I didn't take it to heart. "Thank you. But it's just some practice. I want to be an architect one day."

She grinned, revealing a row of shiny white teeth. "That's a nice choice. Engineering, architecture, urban planning: all smart career paths."

Huh. Maybe she wasn't such an airhead.

There were still some kids goggling at my sketches, but most of the crowd had dispersed. The girl then gave a breathy laugh.

"I'm aiming to be an actress, though. I'm Silena," she offered, fluttering her manicured fingers in greeting. "Silena Beauregard."

"I'm Annabeth. I'm new here, and I'm from California."

"It's nice to meet you! NYC is very different from Cali, but we've got all this high fashion and jewelry! There's a shoe store on Madison Avenue that I always recommend to every new person I meet. You may want to check it out."

I glanced at my tattered sneakers. "That would be great, but it's probably too expensive for me."

She shook her head. "No, it's really very affordable. You can find leather boots for less than forty. What, do you think I'd go around telling people about a store with five hundred dollar heels?"

I stared at her, taking in her ensemble. "Yes."

"_Silena_," came a snobbish voice. Silena turned to see a troupe of dressy girls approach, complete with pink and lace and frills and even…

"Yuck," I muttered. Talk about too much perfume. "I can smell them from here."

Silena hadn't heard me, and she went to join her group. "Sorry, Annabeth. I've got to go. See you!"

"You too," I replied, unsure if I wanted to or not. She seemed nice, but a bit overwhelming. And her posse of girls was eyeing me as if I had committed a heinous crime.

I probably had, in their eyes. A fashion crime, maybe. I was in dirty jeans and a penny tee, so I must have offended them pretty badly.

I started sketching again when my legs fell asleep. I need to start sitting in a better angle.

I started pacing empty bleachers, hoping the ticklish feeling would go away. I spotted that girl Thalia crouched over, her shoulder-length black hair sticking out in all directions as she scratched something with her pencil.

"Whoa," I gasped.

You see, Thalia was a little jealous of me, and she had good reason to be.

Her sketches were _incredible_. There were arched eyebrows and narrowed eyes and pouty lips and crossed arms and long, flowing ribbons of hair. The faces she drew had life to them, emotion, and I could see how much work she had put into the characters. My doodles were a series of lopsided buildings.

"Uh, what's your name?" I asked, even though I knew it fully well already.

"Who cares to know?" she replied, frisking eraser shavings off her paper.

"I do. I'm Annabeth."

"Okay, I'll bite," she smirked, still not bothering to look up at me. "I'm Thalia."

I sat down beside her, angling my head for a good view. "You draw much better than I do." I spotted a particularly special picture of hers and paused. A soft 'wow' escaped my mouth.

"Now _this_. _This_ is what you call art."

Thalia didn't say anything, but I could see the smile playing on her lips.

* * *

><p>A week passed. Two. Three. The city was still the same, but I wasn't.<p>

Despite all the cold, I warmed up a bit. Let people in. Percy was my lifeline. He was likely the best friend a person could ask for.

I helped him with his homework. He would show me around Manhattan, and we'd gag at the awful stench of urine in the subways. We'd laugh over breakfast and make funny faces on our pancakes out of blueberries. I'd help him out at the convenience store, where we would shelve bags of chips together. Sometimes we would spend our small restitution on a gelato – Italian ice cream sold three blocks from the apartment. Sometimes I would get rainbow sorbet, sometimes I would get coffee, and once I even tried dulce de leche. Percy, though, would always get the same flavor. Blueberry.

Thalia was great too. We became close. Sure, she was a little rough-edged, but that's what I loved about her. She was so… _cool._ And fun. Thalia had the "I. Don't. Care what you think as long as it's about _me_," thing going on. She was awesome. I would look at her drawings (ignoring her protests not to) and pick my favorites. She would kick up her combat boots and tell me about her favorite Japanese mangas. (Call her a weeaboo and _die_.) We would run the mile together during PE, laughing at stupid things as we jogged past sixth graders in the gym.

Luke would make appearances frequently, tossing his sandy blond hair out of his eyes and grinning in that way that made me and all the other girls at school drool. He and Thalia seemed to be joined at the hip. He would skip class to hang around with us (mostly Thal) during seventh grade lunch, chuckling at her whispers in his ear. I wondered a lot about the two of them, but didn't say anything. I of all people know not to poke noses into someone's business.

Grover would be around too. He was a crazy kid with a pimply face and nervous bleat for a voice, but he was hilarious. Our lunch table grew: Percy, Thalia, sometimes Luke, Grover, and I all sat in the cafeteria, nibbling on sandwiches and sipping Gatorade. I felt at peace.

Percy wouldn't ask me personal questions. When he did, it was an accident, and when I wouldn't meet his eyes or bother answering he would quickly change the subject.

And that's how it was for most of January.

But on that horrible Sunday nearing the end of the month, the… _incident _happened.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Oooh! Cliffy!**

**Review if you want the next chapter up soon. (Remember: it's already written.)**

**R&R. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**

**Hi. Yay, update!**

**A shout-out to all my kind reviewers (one that is extremely overdue). Thanks to IFoundAPickle, who has been a reader since the beginning, and thank you to princesswhatever9, ChildofTitans310, klydo, and all you other awesome people. And I haven't forgotten you, anons! I love you too!**

**So: incident happens this chapter! *Cue gasp***

**Annabeth doesn't react well to touch. (Yes, even to Percy's.)**

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Even if it IS a little heavy. :P**

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><p>Camisole clad, I threw my worn clothes into the dirty laundry basket, gnawing on a pencil as I searched for the matching shirt to my pyjama pants. I needed to go to bed <em>pronto<em>. Mix Annabeth, seven hour-long classes, and no sleep to create a nuclear explosion and/or a girl snoring in the middle of school. Both of which result in trouble.

I lifted the cottony gray shirt up when my bedroom door creaked open, revealing a certain black-haired boy with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

The pencil fell from my lips as I covered my front with the shirt. "Percy! Ever heard of knocking?"

Blushing slightly, he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I did knock, Wise Girl. I think you're just deaf. And can't you lock the door when you change?"

Snorting, I pointed at the keyhole-free doorknob. "You see a lock? No? Me neither."

"Ah. I can be so stupid. Seriously, though, Annabeth, I knocked like ten times. You're sure you don't even have slightly damaged ears?"

Rolling my eyes, I turned my back to him, worming my arms into the sleeves of my sleep shirt as words I didn't mean to say slipped out: "I was trapped in my own little world. As usual." Gah. I need to stop un-bottling my bottled up emotions. Life is much simpler that way.

I could sense his eyebrows scrunching up as I poked my head through the collar, and when Percy spoke again his voice was strange.

"Annabeth… what's that?"

An uneasy feeling had taken hold of me, but I managed to keep a neutral face. I tugged my shirt down to my navel, smoothing out the wrinkles as I looked at him. "What's what?"

Percy peeled the grey cloth off my back as his fingers traced the long, jagged bumps that lined my shoulder blades. Oh _no_. No, no, no.

I yelped, jumping away from him as I adjusted my shirt and crossed my arms in front of my chest. He was still only inches away. My face must have been hot enough to fry an egg, but not for the reason you think.

Percy was horrified. "Annabeth, sorry, I just…"

"Have you forgotten? Forgotten I don't like to be in contact with _other human skin_?" I hissed, hugging my sides. My eyes began to burn and sting, but I blinked rapidly before rubbing them roughly with my palms. _No. I will NOT._

Hands clawing at his head in dismay, Percy stammered, "I-I'm sorry! It's only that – "

"Don't touch me," I muttered under my breath, backing away from him. _Don't look into those eyes, don't do it..._

"I try not to ask you questions, but please, tell me! I want to help! You know I don't want to hurt you. W-where did you get those scars?" The distress in his words and pity in his green eyes made me want to hurl.

"Don't t-touch me," I repeated, unable to hide the quiver in my voice. I was doubled over, my eyelids screwed shut.

"Annabeth – "

"Don't TOUCH me!" I lashed out at him, stumbling backwards into the wall, but still he advanced. My knees shook as I threw him a glare that was too pathetic to cause any sort of intimidation. Also, I was in serious danger of crying.

"Don't… don't touch me."

Percy's hand reached for mine, and his voice was barely audible, a soft whisper. "Please, just – "

"I SAID DON'T _TOUCH_ ME!" I screamed, almost knocking him over as I barreled out of the room with my hands over my ears. Navigating was difficult as my uncombed blond curls draped over my scalding face.

I managed to run to the bathroom without tripping, ignoring Ms. Jackson's surprised shout of "Annabeth?" from the living room. Slamming the door shut, I sunk to my knees, burying my trodden face in my lap. I dismissed Percy's yells and banged my head against the wall to numb my emotional pain with some physical.

Also, my trembling had nothing to do with the cold.

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><p>I picked myself off the frigid tiles and moaned. My neck was as stiff as a board, my cheeks clammy and cold, and to top it all off I was granted a skull-bashing headache. I'd spent the night on the bathroom floor. I tell you, the shower mats were not very cushiony. All in all, I did not sleep well. Last night's incident constantly repeating itself in my head did not help.<p>

I examined myself in the mirror, taking in my bloodshot eyes and wild nest of hair. School would be enjoyable today on a restless four hours of sleep.

Then again, school would be a distraction. But Percy would be at my right hip, undoubtedly to confront me whenever the chance arose.

I sighed and began to brush out the worst of my blond snarls.

What a long day awaited me...

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><p><strong>AN **

**Were you expecting more? Apologies if so. This was pre-written.**

**Next chapters may be a little graphic (as in violent), so brace yourselves! D:**

**Because what would a story be without some horrific incident? And a story isn't a story without some drama.**

**You'll find out why poor Annabeth freaked out here in future chaps.**

**Review please! I love reviews, I read all of them, and they definitely help me update faster.**

**Thanks, and stay tuned for more. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

**AUGHH I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS. I AM SOOOO SORRY.**

**I bet you've forgotten this story by now, but just hear me out please.**

**RECAP: Annabeth remembers her past and feels horrible and alienated, separated from her best friend and confidant, Percy. Percy, meanwhile, feels terrible for her and hopes he can help her through her pain.**

**I've decided it's an appropriate time to showcase a timeline of Annabeth's life. Get ready to smile and cry with our favorite know-it-all as she goes through her dismal life story.**

**This is Year Zero. Year One should be up soon.**

**Again sorry, for delay.**

**I probably won't update this week (finals week, shit!) but I will very soon.**

**Review and enjoy. :)**

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><p><strong><em>Year 0<em>**

Soft whimpers reverberated throughout the empty executive hospital suite. The mother – a woman of impassive gray eyes and waves of graying blond hair – stroked the infant's cheek absentmindedly, her gaze unwavering from the rain-streaked window across from her bedside. The father sat rather rigidly in a leather armchair, a mixture of anxiety and unknown emotion (joy…?) flowing through him. He couldn't bring himself to look at the baby girl for a longer than five seconds, he stared only at the ceiling, aware his daughter was just meters away. He hadn't even held her in his arms yet. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened in the past year…

"Frederick," the woman addressed him, her gray eyes boring holes through the nervous father.

He stood up in a flurry, dusting off his slacks and adjusting his framed glasses. "Y-yes, my love?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this... so very late. It really is very unprofessional," she began, her tone tentative.

"What… what is it?"

"This child. I'm afraid I can't care for her. I cannot be her mother."

The man took a staggering step backwards. "What do you mean? You're a very wealthy woman!"

The mother smiled wryly, giving her lover a look. "Why, you think I don't know that, Frederick, dear? I'm much too busy. I haven't the time. This girl would feel alienated, neglected, angry, to be living with me."

The father ran a hand through his dark brown hair, thoroughly flustered. "What do you propose we do, then?"

"She will live with you. You must be her father. I know you are busy as well, but it's the only plausible solution. You will raise her."

He seemed on the verge of tears. "All of a sudden you throw this at me! But – my dear, what about you?"

"What _about_ me?" the woman replied, her tone bitter. She hated this. She hadn't wanted this to happen. She didn't want to be in such a situation, but accidents happen. She didn't mean to provoke him; to taunt him, to be so cold and uncaring… it was simply her nature. She wanted to comfort the poor professor, who looked one the brink of a breakdown. But she was too angry. And too sad.

"I'm sorry," she exhaled. "I can't see you anymore. I have to move on. It is very difficult for me to end this, but this has gone on longer than necessary. This girl is what brought us together. I would have gone much earlier if it weren't for her."

As if she knew she was being mentioned, the infant punched the air in her sleep with tiny, chubby fists before blinking her eyes open and staring at her mother with large, round gray eyes identical to her own. The mother sighed.

The father's face was in his hands, and he was slouched in his armchair, muttering incoherently. "My love… my dearest Athena… how could this happen…"

"I truly am sorry, Frederick," the woman said, her voice holding the most sympathy it could hold.

The room remained silent.

Only a few days later, they separated. Her departing words were endearing but solemn.

_Do not forget me, Frederick. I loved you.  
><em>_But above all…  
><em>_Take care of the child.  
><em>_Take care of Annabeth._

And so he was left to care for the small girl, heartbroken and confused.

The girl. Annabeth. His daughter.

Now he would be taunted everyday for the rest of his life

About what he lost

Beautiful, intelligent Athena

His daughter would be a constant reminder

Of his greatest sorrow.

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**Sad, ya I know. Years one to five should be uplifting. There on after should be a rollercoaster of sad emotions. D: Angsty.**

**Review, I love feedback. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**

**Hahaha I've accidentally abandoned FF! I feel pretty bad, but life has been busy so... yeah.**

**Hopefully I can get Year 4 out tomorrow. This is really, really short lol posting it is rather pointless but I'm just considering it a drabble. Idk. Here just have it.**

**Also, I really need to read The Mark of Athena! I need to go to the library soon!**

**Okay, bye. (And if you are all still sticking around, I may just update more frequently. I know. I'm a greedy miser for reviews!)**

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><p>Year 2<p>

"You're a quiet one, aren't you?" asked the babysitter, staring into the toddler's eyes. She looked back at her, and her eyes were large and grey, like pools of mercury, her round cheeks filled with chocolate raisins. The college student pat the baby's head of yellow curls and handed her a cupful of milk.

Once she had swallowed her food, the toddler said, "Daddy says I can't be loud. Daddy is mad when I'm not quiet." She gave the cup back to the babysitter. "Daddy gets loud if I'm loud. I don't get loud. I don't want Daddy to be loud. It makes me scared," she said rather matter-of-fact, her babyish face expressionless.

The babysitter stared at the little girl in terror, her mouth ajar. "Annabeth, sweetie, I'm sorry."

Annabeth was now busy building with her blocks. "Sorry? No. No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry Daddy gets loud."

"Does... does Daddy ever do anything else?"

"No. Daddy is only loud. I don't like Daddy to be loud. It is scary,"

Troubled, the young woman gave the toddler a tentative hug. Annabeth wrapped her small arms around her neck. "Thank you Miss Frankie. You are always nice."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**

**Thank user ElmoDaHorse for awakening me from my slumber! I've actually wanted to get back to writing recently, and due to finally getting back on the writing horse, I'm back. I really owe you lovely people who have been waiting for this to get updated so I'm skipping year 4 and going straight to year 6.**

**Thanks so much for reading this story, and as I try to get better at writing I will try to update this story! Please review and tell me what you think.**

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><p><strong>Year 6<strong>

"Annabeth, take this money and go buy one ice cream for daddy and one ice cream for you." Lounging on a park bench, a middle-aged man in thick-rimmed glasses handed a handful of bills to his young daughter. She grinned broadly and left to wait her turn at the ice cream cart. Shuffling forward slowly in line, she marveled at the generous helping of crisp, green notes her father had given her.

Her father had fallen on hard times and treats were hard to come by. Her tattered sneakers were a size too small, and her shirt had been salvaged from Goodwill. But once she brought back a large tangerine-flavored popsicle for her father and a waffle cone overflowing with creamy ice cream for herself, she felt like the richest girl in the world. She savored every lick of her dessert, treasuring every last drop; and she made sure to scarf down the crunchy cone as well.

Annabeth chanced a glance at her dad and was not disheartened. His gaze took in the lovely autumn-colored scenery of early fall Central Park with a benevolence Annabeth had never before seen in her father.

Her father was happy. She was glowing.

Her father had not been happy for most of his life, even as a small girl she knew his drastic mood swings and his disproportionate anger towards the exceptionally quiet six year old was not normal. But over the course of several months her father became a kinder, gentler man. He would raise his voice less and less often until his violent yelling ceased. He would hit her with less force and frequency until his disciplinary actions were reduced to small flicks of the forehead. She was now fed regularly, and was less often forgotten in public places. Annabeth's life had taken a turn for the better.

Upon finishing her ice cream, she wiped her sticky hands with a tissue and crossed her legs on the bench next to her father, content with her ice cream-filled stomach.

The two sat in peace, watching the evening grow nearer when her father's leg vibrated. He took out his phone out of his pocket and spoke in a relaxed, easy-going manner.

"Hello?"

A shaky voice answered – a woman's voice. A low, hasty voice that sounded... apologetic. Abruptly her father's mood changed, his smile vanished and was replaced by a grimace. His hands were trembling and the vein that would act up when he was upset bulged grossly from his forehead. His breathing grew more labored by the second as he shot up from his seat.

Annabeth wasn't quite sure what was going on. She almost thought he was having a heart attack. She was frightened by his behavior, the all-too-familiar behavior she witnessed during his common panic attacks, and she edged away from her father as his eyes widened in shock.

"NO!" his shriek was enough to startle passersby and make the hairs on Annabeth's arms stand up on end. Her cloudy grey eyes were round with fear as her father stood up and screamed into the device again. "YOU CAN'T!"

His face was blotchy and red and his glasses had gone askew as he screamed into the reciever, "STOP CRYING! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Annabeth was vaguely aware of the distant sobbing coming from the other end.

People had begun to stare in terrified fascination, whispering in confusion, and some peered curiously at Annabeth. She tried to hide behind a trashcan but her father grabbed her arm with his bony fingers. "You're not going anywhere," he growled. She cowered in fright as he yanked her back towards him. He angrily turned his attention back to his conversation.

"LISTEN TO ME. _LISTEN TO ME!_ DON'T LEAVE – " he bellowed into the phone speakers before being cut off by the rumble of a dial tone.

There was a moment of total stillness and silence that seemed to last for an eternity. Her father seemed frozen in place; his phone dangling in one hand and other hand in an iron grip on his daughter's arm.

He let go of Annabeth and broke down in the middle of the park, falling to his knees. His heartbroken sob was mangled with feral rage, and he thrashed the ground and howled like a dying animal. Previous onlookers hurriedly walked away, not wanting to get involved. Annabeth looked at him in horror, unable to decipher what had just happened.

When he staggered to his feet again, she feared for her life.

"You," he spat, grabbing her arm again, his sunken face shoved in front of her own. She could smell the tobacco from his bared teeth. "She told me to give you her phone number," he breathed, "so you could 'stay in touch'."

He snickered, "As if I would give that bitch a chance to make my life worse." His crooked teeth were even more pronounced as he leered at her. Annabeth shook her head vigorously in hopes it would appease him.

"I bet she'd call you up to tell you new ways to make your old dad's life hell, huh?" His smile was demented.

She didn't even see his hand coming, it came so quickly. She only heard the loud _crack!_ and felt her small frame thud to the ground, her spiny arms slammed into the pavement.

Next thing Annabeth knew, she was clutching her face in pain, her eyes watering as she bit her lip to abstain from screaming. Blood trickled down her torn elbow and chin. Her vision was blurry, and when she looked up her father's misshapen silhouette was already far, far away from her.

She collapsed to the ground, sick of everything, and fell asleep, only to be woken up hours later by a woman asking her if she was lost.

"Lost? Yes. That is how I would say it. I am very, very lost."

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><p><strong>So? Is Kat still a decent writer? Sorry I haven't written in ages. I will get better. But stay tuned for more! Please review and tell me your opinions! :)<strong>


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